


Beneath the Hood

by darkestofhunters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League of America (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkestofhunters/pseuds/darkestofhunters
Summary: Red Hood is recovering from his latest stint in Arkham when he runs into Melody Baker, an intelligent bookstore owner who is more mysterious than she lets on. She doesn't know who or what he is and she isn't about to tell him everything about her. BatFam, OC/Jason, some Red Hood & the Outlaws, UtRH, & DC Canon but what even is canon anymore. Rated for sex, swearing, violence, and Jason being Jason.





	1. Chapter 1

Melody Baker was having a really bad day. It was probably one of the worst days she’s ever had since that humiliating day in high school when she found her boyfriend on his knees in front of another guy hidden between the bookshelves of the library. That had been pretty bad and incredibly mortifying, as well, but at least it hadn’t as painful as this. She was sick and tired of dating assholes that would demand one hundred and ten percent from her and then give nothing back in return. She so was tired of it all. She threw her third shot back and slammed the little glass down on the battered wooden bar. Melody’s best friend, Tina, watched her friend with concerned eyes as Melody let out a frustrated groan. Melody gave Tina a sad look before motioning for the bartender to bring her another shot. The club was dirty, dark, and exclusively popular, but Melody had never had to wait outside with those who were less fortunate in the physical appearance department.  


Melody had always known that her whole body oozed sex appeal like sweet maple syrup on pancakes. She had quite large breasts, something she’s either adored or found to be annoying depending on her mood, and a firm round ass that she had often been told was perfect for a man’s hands. Her stomach was flat and toned just enough that she didn’t look particularly muscular but she could certainly take a punch in the gut if she had to. Her arms and legs were just the same, supporting a concealed muscle that made her look feminine but could easily break a few bones should she desire it. She was by no means “skinny”, or at least what most girls idolized as “skinny”, but she never concerned herself with such things a thigh gap or prominent collar bones. Her hair just touched the bottom of her shoulder blades and was a bizarre shade of white blonde that she had never seen on anybody but herself and her eyes were wide and blue, the kind of eyes that made most people give her whatever she wanted. Her face was heart shaped and petite and she had prominent aristocratic features, a roman nose and high cheekbones. Her lips were also heart shaped and plump, the color of melting cotton candy by nature but tonight she had covered them with red lipstick.  


Tina was quite different from Melody in more ways than just appearance. Tina was what girls dreamt about being. She was thin and tiny, something Melody could never accomplish not that she really wanted to. She had the dainty collar bones and the infamous thigh gap, everything that any girl would kill to have. She was short, about 5’2 in height, a full 4 inches shorter than Melody, and she was small chested and her ass was all but invisible, but for some reason she looked so much more sophisticated and delicate than Melody. With Tina’s pretty features and Melody’s raw sexuality, the girls were always admitted immediately to whatever club they desired to grace with their presence. Tina looked classy and stylish orchid colored dress looked more fitting for an office room than a club, but Melody’s body-con black lace dress looked more appropriate for a bedroom. Tina’s dress had a jagged neckline and short sleeves with pleated details and a small v-line back. The skirt of Tina’s dress fell just above the knee whereas Melody’s skirt landed just underneath her infamous rear-end. Melody’s dress had a slight lattice cutout that emphasized her waist just under her bust and gave those who dared to look a nice view of her fair skin.  


Melody downed her fourth shot, delivered by the bald middle-aged bartender, while Tina continued to sip at her first and only glass of wine. “Why do I subject myself to becoming romantically involved with insufferable, lying, Cro-Magnons like him?” She crooned woefully, placing her face in her hands to hide her shame.  
“I have a theory.” Tina said as if she had just made an incredible scientific breakthrough. Melody looked up at her friend, waiting to hear what she had to say. “It’s because of your boobs.” She stated proudly.  


Melody crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “How very eloquent of an assumption, Tina.” Melody snapped, dripping sarcasm from her cherry red lips.  
Tina rolled her eyes. “You’ll see what I mean.” She tugged Melody’s arm and the blonde followed her dark-haired friend begrudgingly over to a table that sat a lone man. He was not much older than the two girls, who were in their mid-twenties, and he looked both confused and amused by their approach. He was not particularly handsome, but he had a rugged appeal that Melody knew that Tina appreciated in a man. He was a brunette, like Tina, and had plain hazel eyes. “I need you for an experiment, sir.” She said.  


The man scratched at his five o’ clock shadow and eyed the two girls carefully. “Sure, I guess.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.  


“Are her boobs larger than mine?” Tina asked, pointing to Melody’s chest. The man was taken aback by the question.  


“Is the answer going to get me in trouble?” He asked, considering the question seriously as if he really were the subject of a science experiment.  


“Nope. I’m testing your competence.” Tina said.  


“Then, yes, hers are larger than yours.”  


Tina nodded. “And who between the two of us, without taking personality into consideration, would you be willing to take home to meet your mother?”  


The man considered this for a moment before speaking up. “Probably you.” He said to Tina. “You seem . . .”  


“Less like a sex object, you mean?” Melody suggested, causing the man to flush with embarrassment.  


“For lack of better phrasing, yes.” He admitted sheepishly. Melody tried not to roll her eyes at him. He was just being honest, a trait she valued greatly in men; in people in general. Honesty was hard to come by in Gotham, in anyplace.  


Tina squeezed Melody’s hand gently, drawing her attention. “I told you.” Tina said.  


“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Melody said, feeling more depressed than she originally was.  


Tina frowned slightly. “No, not really.” It wasn’t long before that the man at the table, his name Melody discovered was Matthew, was completely engaged in whatever it was that Tina had to say. They talked about pets and siblings and all the things that people talked about with each other. Melody participated very little in their conversation, allowing them time to bond. It was obvious that Matthew was interested in Tina, and that she was equally as fascinated by him as he was with her. Melody didn’t like being the third wheel, especially when she was trying to drink away her pain. Despite her hatred of men as of the current moment, she found herself quite liking Matthew, and thought that he might just be worthy of Tina. Abruptly, she pushed her chair back from the table and stood, drawing attention to herself.  


“Where are you going?” Tina asked, not bothering to look away from Matthew’s hazel eyes.  


“I’m going to get a drink. I need something to occupy my mind while you two make puppy-love eyes at each other.” Melody said gruffly, heading to the bar without another word. She ordered a martini from the bald bartender. While she was waiting for her drink, leaning forward against the bar, she felt the large arms of a man snake around her waist and she suppressed a groan. Hot breath assailed her ear as if this stranger were trying to make his heavy breath seem sensual. It wasn’t working.  


“I’ve been watching you all night, baby.” He said the words in her ear, fingers toying with the bits of skin exposed by the lattice of her dress. His words were designed to make her feel beautiful, attractive, but Melody only found him disturbing. He had the deep gravelly voice of a chain smoker, something Melody could not find attractive even if she tried.  


“Get your hands off of me.” Melody said from between her teeth. She figured the poor man deserved a fair warning, even if he was a creep. She could hear him laugh and she turned to face him. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken too many times, and seemed to be the focal point of his face. He was bald, like the bartender, but much younger so his head must’ve been shaved. He had several tattoos and dark beady eyes.  


“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” He said, his hands on her hips, trying to pull her close. Melody saw her moves in slow motion before they happened, the way she always saw things before she really did them. She grabbed his wrist and spun, pinning him chest first against the bar and twisting his arm behind his back. He cried out in pain, trying and failing to get out of Melody’s hold.  


“Don’t call me ‘baby’ and when a woman tells you to get your hands off you goddamn get your hands off.” Melody lectured sternly, reigning in her annoyance and frustration so she could properly teach a lesson. “Now leave me alone before I break you in half.” She released him, grabbed her martini and went back to her table where Tina and Matthew were speaking animatedly about their favorite hockey teams. Melody listened half-heartedly to their conversation as she stirred her martini with her speared olive. She couldn’t focus on anything but a pair of deceitful blue eyes that she was almost certain would haunt her even to her deathbed where she, most certainly, will be alone. She finished her drink and chewed her olive as she watched the blossoming romance before her. It made her stomach feel uneasy, or maybe it was the alcohol. Still, she knew it was no good for her to sit and watch these two flirt mercilessly with each other.  
“I’m going to head home.” She announced, rising from her chair with purpose.  


Tina frowned up at her friend. “I’m sorry, Mel. I’ve been a shitty friend tonight.” It was true, but Melody didn’t really blame her for it.  


“That’s okay, Tina. I just need to stew in my perpetual bitter loneliness for the rest of the night. Stay here with Prince Charming.” She insisted. Tina stood on her toes and gave Melody a tight hug, the kind of hug that a protective mother would give a frightened child. Melody felt safe in Tina’s familiar embrace. She waved a small goodbye to Matthew and headed for the door, paying her tab to the bartender who looked like he didn’t really care whether she paid or not. She lived about for blocks from the club so there was no need to waste money on a cab, especially on a night so clear and warm. It was rarely very clear in Gotham, especially at night. It was usually pretty warm in the city, with the sheer amount of pollution and smog that made the sun’s rays much stronger and the air stuffier. Even in early spring it was warm enough to not need a jacket but she had brought her black leather jacket regardless, folding it over her arms and clutching it to her chest. Melody was walking on a fairly deserted street and took the opportunity to dig through her clutch purse for her apartment keys. It was in that split second that she was seized from behind and slammed into the brick wall of an alleyway. She hit the wall so hard the wind was knocked out of her. She struggled to breathe and there were involuntary tears leaking from her eyes from the force of the blow. She cursed herself for being caught unaware of her surroundings. Looking up, she found herself underneath the large body of the tattooed bald man from the bar. I guess he can’t take rejection very well, Melody thought.  


“I’m going to make you pay, bitch.” He growled, his hands gripping the inside of her thighs hard enough to bruise. Melody shut her eyes and pushed away her fear. She’d been in worse situations before. She’d get out of this relatively unharmed, it was just going to have to get a little messy first.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason Todd was having a really bad day. He was staring at the door inside Wayne Manor. It had not been entering the grounds that had been so hard; it was the door in before him now that was his greatest obstacle. It was the door to his old bedroom that had halted the powerful and fearsome Red Hood. His dirty black backpack was slung over one shoulder and he could not describe with words how out of place, how _separate_ , he felt from the boy who grew up in this room. The boy that lived here had been good and clean-cut, a picture of childhood innocence. Now, Jason stood over 6 feet tall, had shaggy black hair and haunted dark blue eyes that had seen far too much blood and death for someone as young as he was. This place was where it was so good that he couldn’t remember what it felt like. His older brother, Dick, placed a comforting hand on the shoulder without the backpack strap and gave a strong squeeze of assurance.

“Are you going in?” Dick asked, his voice full of brotherly concern. Dick was not Jason’s brother by blood; none of the four Wayne boys were related that way. Dick was the only brother Jason could bother to tolerate out of all of them. Tim was a brain, too smart and serious for Jason’s taste, and Damian, the only child of blood relation to their father, was an evil stuck-up 10 year old prick. Dick, at least, had a sense of humor.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Jason said, more to himself than to Dick.

“There’s no shame in coming back home, Jason.” Dick said, quietly. Jason sighed but he still didn’t reach for the door. “Jason we’re all really glad to have you home.” Dick said, trying a second time to reassure his brother that he mattered. Jason wasn’t quite as sure as Dick.

“Maybe _you_ are but I doubt Damian the Demon Spawn and The Royal Dork are. And we both know how Bruce feels about all this.” Jason’s words had a bitter tang to them that made Dick frown.

“Bruce loves you, Jason.” Dick insisted.

Jason snorted a laugh and finally opened the door just to escape Dick’s pity. He shut the door behind him, ending the conversation with Dick on a sour note. The room was dark and untouched -- save the occasional dusting from Alfred the butler who refused to allow anything to remain dirty in Wayne Manor. Jason couldn’t help but think of a tomb. This room was the tomb where Jason Todd had died and been left frozen in time as if it were some kind of macabre memorial. The walls and furniture were all black; as were the sheets on the bed, and the blinds were shut tight allowing no light to penetrate the shroud of darkness. Jason gave a short brief smirk at the only connection between himself and the boy who had called this place home. Their love of the color black was all that was left in common between the boy and the man. Jason dropped his meager backpack of personal effects on the foot of the queen sized bed that had been far too large for the tiny boy that had slept there. He opened the closet and found it full of the small clothes of a young boy that dreamt of a father’s love and of growing up to become someone who mattered. Rage filled him like an injection, slow at first and then all-consuming. He tore the clothes out of the closet, tearing the rod out of the wall, with a pain filled sound he had heard himself emit far too often these days. He fell to his knees in the pile of clothes, tears of anger and pain filling up his eyes as he tried to fight them back into the depths of him. The boy that had worn these clothes was dead. Jason Todd died young underneath the love and care of a kind man named Bruce Wayne. Jason Todd was dead. The one they brought back was a poor copy, half a person at best. It was painful to be dead and alive at the same time.

Jason rose to his feet after a long pause and looked out between the blinds at the sky. The sun was almost gone and the bats would be out for the night. As if on cue, a knock at the door sounded. Jason wiped under his eyes in case any of his carefully controlled tears had dared to escape. He opened the door to find Dick, or rather Nightwing, staring at him with the goofy grin that only Dick would dare to give him. The Nightwing costume was rather simple. The form fitting Kevlar suit that fit Dick’s body like a glove was all black, save the royal blue bird that stretched itself over his chest and down his arms to his fingers. His utility belt was hardly so much a belt and more of a large strap around his waist that carried all of his tools and gadgets. His mask covered his eyes and was equipped with night vision. He had a small black earpiece in his right ear, a “comm.” as it was called by the team. Dick had his dark black hair pushed back from his face so it fell in an effortless stylish way. Dick had always been the good looking one in the family.

“Wanna go on patrol with me?” Nightwing asked.

“Depends.” Jason grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you asking because Bruce wants someone to babysit me?” The question wiped the smile off of Nightwing’s face, catching him off-guard and answering’s Jason’s question. Jason was prepared to slam the door but Nightwing caught it with his gloved hand.

“He’s just worried about you, Jason.” Nightwing defended. “I’m worried, too. Not because I think you can’t handle yourself, but because I care about you. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” Jason felt like an ass, something only Dick can make him feel like and actually feel bad about it.

“Give me a damned comm. and I’ll buzz you if I need you.” Jason sighed, holding out his hand for the earpiece and watching Nightwing’s grin return.

“It’s always small victories with you, Jason.” Nightwing laughed.

“Eat me, Grayson.” Jason said, giving the smirking bird the finger. Jason shut the door behind him and put the comm. in his ear. He slipped on his heavy weapon-lined coat, a worn brown leather thing that was thick with weapons and gadgets. He slipped on a deceivingly simple black eye-mask that wasn’t really so simple. It shielded his eyes and enhanced his night vision so he could see crystal clear in the dark. Lastly was his helmet, a model of his own design. It was reinforced and nearly unbreakable but more of a computer than a protective helmet. He could hack into the police records and the large bug like slanted eyes of the helmet acted as a targeting system for all his weapons. He loved his helmet, he was very proud of it. When he slipped it on, it powered up and he became Red Hood. He only really felt comfortable when he was Red Hood. Jason Todd was dead.

He leapt out the window of Wayne Manor and headed off into the darkness. The night was warm and clear, surprising for an evening in Gotham. Red Hood thought he might even be able to see a few stars out. He grabbed his red speed-cycle and headed to downtown Gotham. There was bound to be some trouble there late on a Friday night. He hid his bike behind a dumpster and shot his grappling hook up onto the roof. He went from roof to roof for a few hours. It wasn’t until five minutes to midnight that Red Hood finally heard the sounds of an attack brewing in the night. The sounds of grunts and blows were music to Red Hood’s ears. He looked down at the alley below and found a girl trapped against the wall by a large-muscled skin head. He didn’t have time to get angry before he saw the flash of the heel of her palm colliding with the man’s nose, thusly breaking it and causing blood to pour onto the dark pavement. He had just reached the bottom of the alley where the two were fighting, if it could be called that. The man was launching wild blows and the woman dodged them all like an expert, but all her moves were defensive. Red Hood grabbed the distracted man from behind and flipped him onto his back hard enough to keep him down for the count. The woman wasn’t having it, though. She turned on the man with all the fury of a scorned woman and stamped hard with her high heeled shoes right on his crotch. The man howled out in pain and Red Hood found himself unconsciously cupping himself out of subconscious pain.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch me again!” she cried, going in for another stomp right on his crotch. Red Hood didn’t bother to stop her, cautious of touching a woman who was so furious. Not to mention, her would-be rapist deserved to have his junk smashed by his would-be victim. “I hope it never works again, you _fucking_ asshole!”

“I think he’s had enough.” Red Hood interrupted, causing her to turn on him. She was gorgeous to look at, especially when she was furious enough that her bright blue eyes glowed in the dim lighting of the city. Her hair, frazzled and messy from the heat of battle, was the strangest shade of white blonde he had ever seen. Her dress was tantalizingly short, showing off an ass and breasts that made Jason wonder what she looked like naked. _Mmm_ , he thought, _I bet she likes to scratch, too_. Her mouth was painted with red lipstick, surprisingly not ruined by her encounter, and her skin was paler than the moonlight. All Jason could think about was having that smooth skin under his tongue.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” She snapped, blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Red Hood,” Red Hood announced, tilting his head at her as if he were daring her to contradict him.

“Never heard of you,” she said, keeping a cautious distance between herself and Red Hood.

“I’m somewhat new on the street, been out of the game for a while.” Red Hood explained. The man on the ground let out a loud groan of pain.

“Shut up!” Red Hood and the woman shouted simultaneously. Red Hood was glad his helmet hid his smirk. Red Hood turned the man over onto his stomach and knelt down to secure the man’s hands and feet with plastic zip cuffs. He touched the comm. on his hear and sent his message to Nightwing. “Nightwing, this is Red Hood. I need your assistance at the alley between Rico’s bar and The Tavern, downtown Gotham. Bring the police, they’ve got a perp to pick up.” He didn’t wait for a reply because he knew Nightwing had heard his message. He looked up and saw the girl leaning back against the wall looking more tired than upset.

“Do you have a cigarette?” she asked when she noticed him staring. Red Hood dug through his pocket and pulled out a full pack and offered her one. She took it with a mumbled thanks, dug through her ridiculously small purse for a lighter, then lit up the cigarette. She took a long drag and sighed contently.

“You smoke?” Red Hood asked, rising to his full height.

“Used to. I quit after my freshman year of college. Figured now would be a good time to start up again,” she said, taking another long drag. She let the smoke out with another sigh.

“And your name?” Red Hood asked, surprising himself. He usually wasn’t interested in pointless conversation.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked, looking at him with mild interest.

“Legal stuff.” Red Hood lied.

“Oh. Baker. Melody Baker,” she announced proudly, as if Red Hood should know who she was just by her name. He offered her his hand before he really thought about the gesture. She took it without thinking and gave it a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you, Melody.” Red Hood said, dropping her hand reluctantly. His gloved hand prevented him from feeling her skin, something he deeply regretted. He was curious to see if her skin was as smooth as it looked. He couldn’t help but wonder how she would feel sliding her body against his as he took her hard and fast against the wall of the alley. He blinked a few times to remove the searing image from his mind.

“Nice to meet you, too, Hood.” Melody nodded her head to him and took another drag from her cigarette. “Do you smoke? It seems like a very poor habit for a superhero to have.”

“I’m not a superhero.” Red Hood said, leaning back against the brick wall, inches from Melody. “Superheroes have powers. I don’t.”

“That seems like an unfortunate system of classification. I think that if a person is courageous enough to go out in a mask and risk their lives every night it makes them ‘super’ enough for the title of superhero.” Melody said with the cigarette hanging from her red lips. The cigarette was stained slightly pink from her lipstick, adding a feminine touch that made her look all that much sexier. Jason mentally scolded himself. He was a pig when it came to women, not afraid of getting rightfully slapped in the face, but he had hoped he would have more control over his desires beside the almost-victim of a rape crime. He was sure the last thing on her mind was sex.

“I’m not all that super, babe.” Red Hood shrugged his shoulders.

“So modest.” Melody smirked. The sound of sirens grew louder and louder as they approached. It wasn’t long before blue and red lights filled the alley like the strobe lights of a club, making Red Hood a little anxious. Usually, when he saw these familiar flashing lights, they were ordinarily chasing him. Nightwing dropped unexpectedly into the alley, causing Melody to curse from being startled. She gave Nightwing a wary look before muttering to herself and taking another drag from her cigarette and finally stamping it out.

“Sorry I’m late. I was cleaning up the remnants of a gang fight with Robin and the Bat.” Nightwing said with his signature smirk. His chin was slightly bruised from a solidly placed punch but it did nothing to deter his enthusiasm.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Red Hood insisted, cocking his head in Melody’s direction. Nightwing’s grin faded and he turned completely serious. It was often that Red Hood wondered how Nightwing could go from cracking jokes to cracking jaws in .02 seconds. Two male police officers exited their vehicles, handcuffs, flashlight and notepads in hand.

“Good evening, Nightwing . . . whose you’re . . . uh, friend?” Detective Blake asked, looking Red Hood up and down warily.

“This is Red Hood. Part of the team.” Nightwing explained and Red Hood rolled his eyes.

“Wasn’t Red Hood a villain?” Officer Martinez asked, looking at Detective Blake questioningly.

“Would you like to find out?” Red Hood offered, taking a threatening step towards the two officers and earning an elbow to the gut from Nightwing.

“You have my word that he’s on our side.” Nightwing assured the two officers. Detective Blake shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright,” Detective Blake grunted. “What happened here?”

“Couldn’t really tell you.” Red Hood shrugged casually. “Melody took him down. I just cuffed him.” The two policemen and Nightwing both eyed Melody curiously.

“And you are?” Officer Martinez asked.

“Melody Baker.” She announced in that proud voice that Red Hood swore made her seem far more important every time she spoke. “This man attacked me, threatened to rape me, and I took him down. Self-defense, of course.” She said with narrowed eyes.

Detective Blake blinked his eyes twice at her. “You’re not Dr. Melody Baker, are you? The one with the bookshop just down the block?”

A doctor? That just made Red Hood even more curious . . . and turned on. “That would be me, yes.” Melody confirmed.

“My son attends your summer reading program. James Blake.” Detective Blake insisted. Melody’s body changed instantly, from defensive victim to cheery bookshop owner.

“I remember James, he was the one that wrote really gruesome murder scenes into all of his assignments.” Melody chuckled and Detective Blake blushed.

“Yeah . . . uh, that sounds like James.” He chuckled nervously, grunted, and then looked down at his notepad. While this conversation was going on, Red Hood had his helmet searching through police databases to see if this guy had a record. His helmet had taken the image of the man and was now automatically running through the databases in record time. It came up to a Chad Hart, convicted felon and lead suspect in several unsolved serial rape cases. Red Hood felt like shooting the guy in the head. “I think we’ve got all we can right now. We’ll bag the guy and contact you if you’re pressing charges.”

“Oh, I’ll be pressing charges.” Melody assured. Detective Blake pulled her aside to take down her information while Officer Martinez hauled Chad Hart in the backseat of the cruiser.

“Bastard might need an ambulance.” Red Hood sneered.

“What’d you do, Hood?” Nightwing asked, giving Red Hood a paternal, scolding look.

“Not me. Her. Kicked his crotch in _real_ good.” Red Hood smirked even though nobody could see it. Nightwing raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Really? But she’s so . . .” Nightwing trailed off, unable to find the correct word to describe the woman before him.

“Hot?” Red Hood offered.

Nightwing nodded in agreement. “Hot and kickass. My kind of woman.” Red Hood didn’t know why, but Nightwing’s comment bothered him. It wasn’t in a chivalrous kind of way, but it was more like a possessive way, which made no sense because Red Hood had no right to her. Detective Blake walked her over to the two heroes.

“Would either of you gentlemen mind escorting Dr. Baker home?” Detective Blake asked.

“You don’t have to. It’s only a block away.” Melody shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t care either way.

Nightwing grinned wickedly down at Melody. “I wouldn’t mind escorting such a beautiful woman home after a harrowing ordeal.” Melody did her best not to roll her eyes at the comment. She was used to such statements, but usually they didn’t come from men who looked so good in a tight bodysuit. Nightwing sure did have an ass that did not quit and if she weren’t in such a foul mood, she might have played along with his flirtatious comment.

That possessive instinct took over and Red Hood pushed Nightwing to the side. “Oh no, I wouldn’t leave you alone with a girl half as pretty as her. I’ll take you home.” Red Hood insisted. Nightwing let out a chuckled.

“Fine, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. Eventually the police left and Nightwing disappeared into the night the way everyone trained by Bruce Wayne knew how to do. Red Hood walked silently beside Melody with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were on his boots.

“It must be strange,” Melody began.

“What must be strange?”

“It must be strange to hide your face from the world, to live two separate lives. It’s almost poetic.” Melody said, staring off ahead into the night. Red Hood looked up from his boots.

“Look who’s talking. You certainly don’t look like a doctor to me.”

“I’m not a medical doctor.” Melody said, pausing outside a black gate that led into a deserted parking lot. She pulled her keys out of her purse and unlocked the gate. “Thank you for walking me home.” Melody looked up at the strange bug-like eyes of Red Hood’s helmet. Against his better judgment, Red Hood reached out and took her chin in his gloved hand. He couldn’t feel her skin but just touching her was enough to spark further desire. He wanted to push up the barely there skirt of her dress and thrust himself inside of her. Melody was looking up at him with wide eyes and she couldn’t help wonder if his hands were soft or rough. She could imagine they were rough. Nothing about this man looked soft at all, especially what lay contained by his grey cargo pants. A tingle of lust went up her spine, a tingle she had no control over. She felt urges she shouldn’t have felt for a man whose face she had never seen, and would never see.

“Would you call me a liar if I said it was my pleasure?” Red Hood asked, tilting his head slightly in that way he did whenever he asked a loaded question.

Melody couldn’t stop the coy smile that formed on her face. “On the contrary, Hood, I believe the pleasure was all mine. Have an excellent evening.” She turned and stepped through the gate, locking it behind her. She could feel him watched her walk away and felt a thrill run through her body. She loved having that effect on men; she loved knowing that a man as strong and independent as Red Hood had his eyes locked on her as she disappeared. Red Hood watched her head to the back door of her apartment, above a bookstore named “Sub-Reality”. As soon as she was out of sight, Red Hood felt himself miss her. He wanted to see her again and Red Hood was not a patient person. He _would_ see her again, even if it meant tracking her down the hard way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's this week's update. I'm going to be alternating point of views every so often to keep the story interesting. Please read and review! Let me know what you think! Thanks!

Melody woke up reluctantly at the sound of her alarm. It was 5 in the morning, the time she woke up every morning so she could get ready to open the bookstore. She groaned at the first rays of sun peeking through her small bedroom window by the fire escape. She pushed herself out of the comforting warmth of her bed and headed to her dresser. She pulled out some fresh clothes and underwear and headed to her bathroom. She took a long shower, feeling as though she was entitled to waste a little more water than usual after last night. She could see the bruises forming on the inside of her thighs, the shape of fingers as if that man were still grabbing at her despite his absence. Even now that he was behind bars his hands were still on her, he had left his mark. Melody scrubbed harder at her skin, causing pain from pressure on the bruises and a stinging redness to form on her raw skin. She didn't feel any better when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped her hair up in a towel. She shimmied up her dusty rose pink pleated skirt that fell just above her knees and tucked in her sleeveless cream colored lace top. She belted her skirt with a faded brown belt and shook her hair out of the towel to blow dry it. She finished drying her hair, applied a diminutive amount of foundation and mascara to her face and grabbed some beige suede high-heeled ankle boots from her under her dresser. She never left the house without mascara, it was her number one rule. Nobody would dare see her without mascara on. Having fair, but long, eyelashes was a burden that she had never asked for as a woman and she did her best to hide it. Her eyelashes were one of the few things she was sensitive about when it came to her appearance.

She stepped into her kitchen/living room to find her Doberman, Toby, lying in his dog bed looking at her with big brown puppy eyes. He was only two years old, after all. He stood up and padded up to her side. She crouched down to hug him and scratch behind his ears. Toby had been her constant companion since she had gotten him as a puppy at the Gotham pet shelter. He had been bred to be a guard dog by some crime lord and had outstanding protective instincts. Melody swore that Toby was also one of the most intelligent animals she had ever come across, maybe more so than a few people she knew as well. He was completely tuned in to her emotions and knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it. She couldn't have asked for a better friend. Toby woofed happily as Melody filled up his food and water bowls. He ate and drank greedily while Melody made some toast, poured some pulp free orange juice, and took her assembly of vitamins and medications. She had an assortment of pills and supplements on her counter that made her feel like a pharmacist, or a drug dealer.

When both Toby and Melody were finished breakfast, she packed up her everyday purse with her phone and other essentials, and headed out the door with Toby at her heels. This was her everyday routine and routine was what she needed right now. She left Toby outside in the parking lot where he went to his little doghouse to sniff at one of his toys. The parking lot was for employees only, but nobody ever used it because all of Melody's employees didn't have a car, so the parking lot was Toby's domain. He liked to stay outside while Melody was working and it reassured Melody that nobody could get into her apartment because Toby would rip them to bits. Melody went through the gate to the front of the store where her morning staff was waiting for her. There was Charlie, the barista who worked the café, and Jean, the wheelchair bound heavy reader who never let her disability keep her from doing her job. Jean was pretty with her short straight blonde hair and her round face. She had eyes that sparkled with life and enthusiasm, something that Melody secretly envied. Charlie had a sweet face, the face of a boy whose cheeks you would want to pinch, despite the fact that he was built like a tank. He had approached Melody when she was opening the shop about adding a café to it and she had agreed as long as he ran it. Charlie's passion was coffee, something Melody didn't complain about seeing as how she consumed coffee as if it were water. He was also blond, with hair that was long for a man, but tied back in a short ponytail to keep professional.

Melody had no uniforms for the shop and had a very liberal dress code. The only thing she required of her employees was a nametag which both Charlie and Jean had pinned onto their shirts. Charlie liked to wear a red apron while he was in the café, though, to keep his clothes clean. Melody had no problem with it. Melody unlocked the door to the shop and her employees followed her in. She locked the door behind her, as it was not quite opening time yet. Charlie went right to his small café bar and started powering up the machines and brewing coffee. Jean clocked all three of them in while Melody pinned her nametag onto her top. She set her purse on the counter where the registers were, modified so that Jean could reach them. It meant that other employees had to sit down to use them but it was easier for everyone to bend a little than to make poor Jean try and reach for the register. Jean excused herself to the back room to lock up her things in the staff lockers while Charlie brought over some coffee for Melody.

"Is this a new concoction today?" Melody asked, taking a seat on the stool behind the register.

"It's blueberry coffee with vanilla syrup." Charlie explained, handing her the cup. "Two sugars, no cream. Just the way you like it."

"It only took you a year to remember that." Melody teased, taking a sip of the new drink Charlie had created. She swallowed and blinked up at him. "I think you should market it to people who like their coffee sweeter. It somewhat reminds me of pancakes." Melody reviewed.

Charlie grinned. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's exactly as I said it is." She replied, spinning around in her stool to see Jean returning to the floor. "Try this, Jean." Melody insisted, handing her employee the cup. Jean looked moderately alarmed but took a sip anyway.

Jean took a moment to consider the flavors before replying. "It kind of tastes like pancakes." She said, handing the cup back to Melody.

Melody shot Charlie a look. "I told you."

"Fine, I'll just take it back-" He reached for the cup but she pulled back from him.

"Did I give you the authorization required for you to repossess my coffee? I don't think so." Melody narrowed her eyes and took a sip from the cup. Charlie chuckled good-naturedly.

"You're in a sour mood." Charlie pointed out. "What happened last night?"

"The last time I checked I paid you to brew overpriced coffee beverages, not to be my therapist." Melody replied, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"The shop doesn't open for another half-hour. Tell Uncle Charlie what's the matter before you poison somebody with that snark." Charlie insisted, leaning forward on the counter. Jean rolled her eyes so Melody didn't have to.

"I'm going to put these books away and check the displays." Jean announced, lifting the medium sized box of books with ease and wheeling away through the shelves.

"If 'Uncle Charlie' really has to know, I have suffered a critical blow to the heart and when I decided to go and drink away my pain, as so many great authors and poets do, I was attacked on my way home and I just feel incredibly violated and angry despite the minimal damage I sustained the previous night." Melody explained, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You mean dickhead broke up with you last night?" Charlie's eyes lit up with amusement.

Melody scowled. "Is that all your tiny brain gathered from that statement?"

Charlie waved away her insult. "He was a dickhead and you know it. As for being attacked, I'm going to assume the attacker in question is in the hospital or at least in jail."

"What makes you so certain of that?"

Charlie gave her a droll look. "Because I've seen you nearly break a guy's hand before. You're tough, Melody. Don't let dickhead or this attack get to you. You're much too strong for that."

Melody shrugged her shoulders indifferently and sipped her coffee. "It's time to open up." She said, rising from her stool and heading for the door. Charlie took the hint and headed to the café bar and Jean continued to straighten the various displays of new books and bestsellers. Melody flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door. The first few regulars trickled in promptly at 6:05 for their morning coffee. Business men, mostly, filled up the line at the café. A few of them bought newspapers to take with their specialty coffee drinks. Melody foresaw and easy day, which was nice because she knew she needed one.

Melody took her break shortly after Jean left and was replaced by Zoe, a tall dark-haired woman with strong Native American roots. Melody swallowed down her hand packed lunch, a simple garden salad, and went out to the front of the store for a cigarette. She regretted having that cigarette the night before, after so many years of being smoke free, but now that she had returned to the despicable habit it was all she could think about. She ran across the street to pick up a carton of her old favorites and a lighter, and then returned to the front of her store to smoke until her lungs turned black. Charlie tsked her as he went by, taking out the trash from the café.

"I thought you quit." He said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"I did, but I find that polluting my lungs just pushes me towards my inevitable death which, let's face it, is probably better off happening sooner rather than later." Melody said, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

"For someone so pretty, you are so absolutely morbid." Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "It's off-putting."

"Don't you have coffee to be making?" Melody asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Charlie rolled his eyes but pestered her no more on the subject.

The afternoon was slow and Melody took the opportunity to do some reading. It wasn't any kind of professional reading, not the kind of reading someone would expect from a woman with a PhD. It was a smutty filthy romance novel, the kind that made Melody sigh aloud and gave her unrealistic expectations in both men and sex. These kinds of books were Melody's guilty pleasure, the kind of books that her fellow colleagues would frown upon her indulging in. She'd read all the greats, Shakespeare and Tennyson, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Emerson. She could quote lines from Charles Dickens' works just as easily as she could with one of the books she held in her hands. Melody was a sucker for a good story featuring a female heroine and a male hero entwined in life changing events. She lived for a good story. Literature was not just about the classics, not just about the quality of the writing or the fame of the author, it was about the story. It was the heart wrenching betrayals, it was the knee-trembling words spoken in the heat of battle, it was the romance scenes that made Melody's stomach fill with butterflies and her legs quiver that made a good story. It was, especially, the distance that these stories took her. These stories took her to made-up lands or different worlds hidden within her own. It took her away from painful reality, the astute awareness that Melody could only escape when she read. She loved books that made her cry and made her feel alive again. The measure of a good book was not of lessons learned or of the quality of writing, it was about how it made you feel. Books made Melody feel alive. When she read, it was the only time she felt truly alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason does a little cyber-stalking of this enticing little woman and also throws a Jason-sized temper tantrum at the manor.

Jason woke up that afternoon and refused to come out of his room. He showered, changed into a pair of sweatpants and that was all the effort he was going to put in for the day. He’d kept his blinds shut and dug through his backpack for his laptop in the dimly lit room. He opened it up and before he could think about what he was doing he typed her name into Google. He had gone through a few links before he found her bookstore website. There was nothing on her except her name and contact information for the store. He tried again and found out that she had a PhD in English Literature and had written several award winning essays and research papers in regards to modern literature. Her most famous essay was about the symbiotic relationship between young women and romance novels. Other than that, Jason came up with nothing. Jason cursed and tried a less than legal way of finding information on her. After a few minutes Jason managed to hack into the government database, something Tim could’ve accomplished in seconds and Damian even less. Jason had never been the smartest of the adopted brothers, but he could fight like no other. The damage he could dole out during a fight was unparalleled by any of his brothers. Jason wasn’t so sure that being able to kill someone with his bare hands was something to really brag about. He discovered her social security number and other useless information until he wandered upon some more interesting details of her life. She was born November 13th, 1988, making her only 2 years older than Jason. She was raised in Gotham, like Jason; all of her previous addresses having been in the greater Gotham area. She had earned her degrees at Gotham University. She’d never left home, it seemed, which Jason found a little strange for someone who seemed so worldly.

Her parents were both deceased, her mother having died when she was 10 and her father when she was 18. Her mother died in a drug overdose and her father in a car accident that had killed several others. Despite the hardships, she seemed to have quite a comfortable sum of money in a separate bank account. It was managed by a man named Frank Webber and there hadn’t been a withdrawal from it in several years. She had no siblings, or at least no record of any. Her blood type was AB negative and she lived alone with a dog she adopted from the Gotham shelter. There were some files, however, that he could not access. They were protected beyond Jason’s meager hacking abilities, but Jason wasn’t too curious. They were sealed medical files, intriguing but he felt like that might be a little too personal. Granted, he was basically spying on her, but even Jason had his limits. It was strange, though, how these simple little things could say so much about a person.

Jason could find out so much about this woman, this brilliant woman, who had earned her degree faster than the other students in her grade, and yet he was still so distant from her. As much as he could get to know her, she could never know him. Jason Todd was dead and nobody was willing to get to know a corpse, let alone have sex with one. If Jason had been like Dick or Tim, he could’ve gone to that uniquely named bookshop and wooed her as if he didn’t know her at all, but he was neither Dick nor Tim. He was Jason Todd, the boy who died, the one who went insane. His name would haunt him. He considered approaching her under an alias but, again, he could not live a lie that long. Not to mention, a woman like Melody Baker did not deserve to be lied to. Very few women deserved to be lied to, at least when it comes down to sex, and Jason was certain he would have sex with her. It was all he could think about. It wasn’t that he was overconfident in himself, but that he just knew deep down at his very center that he would have her naked beneath him. It was as if there were simply no other options.

A knock at the door disturbed Jason from his fantasies. That disturbance is what made him snap at the intruder with his uncontrollable temper. “Go away!” He shouted.

“My apologies, Master Todd. I thought you might be hungry . . .” Alfred trailed off quietly through the door. Jason sighed and opened the door to see Alfred standing humbly before him carrying a covered tray and a glass of water. Jason’s anger fled him at the sight of the simple old butler who had tended his wounds and made him soup when he was ill or injured. Out of everyone in Wayne Manor, Jason cared for Alfred the most. Alfred was hard not to love, because 90 percent of the man’s actions were completely selfless and coated with nurturing affection.

“Thank you, Alfred. You didn’t have to.” Jason said, accepting the tray and glass of water. Alfred peered into the dark room.

“Master Jason, there are clothes all over your floor.” Alfred tsked. Jason blushed, embarrassed, remembering his anger the night before.

“I know, Alfred. I’ll take care of it.” Jason assured.

“Master Bruce is very happy to have you home again, as am I.” Alfred said in that soft paternal voice that he had when Jason was just a boy entering this place for the first time.

“Sure beats where I was.” Jason added with a hint of bitterness. Alfred frowned and Jason felt like apologizing. “Thanks for the food, Alfred.”

“Of course, sir.” Alfred turned and went down the hallway without another word. Jason shut the door and set the glass and the tray down on his desk. He opened the lid of the tray and bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling. It was scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, but Alfred had fashioned the meal like he used to when Jason was a child and in a foul mood. The eggs were parted and formed into circular eyes, because Jason didn’t like sunny-side up eggs, the bacon was molded into a smile and the toast, sliced in two, was placed on the edge of the plates to give the little breakfast face some ears. Jason’s eyes watered, as they did on occasion, but he held back the tears and shut the lid on the meal, unable to bear this bittersweet memory. He went through the torn apart closet and grabbed a large cardboard box. He stuffed all the clothes inside the box and dug through his backpack for his emergency bottle of liquor. He headed out to the grounds of Wayne Manor, carrying the box and the bottle with him. He had to pass through the main room, where Bruce was reading a newspaper and Dick was playing video games with Damian. All of them looked at him as if he were crazy, which Jason was used to. He wasn’t sure if they were following him so he continued out to the center of the lawn.

He heard Bruce calling his name but he was consumed by so much emotion the voices felt like they were miles away, muffled as if he were underwater. He cracked open the bottle and poured it the little boy clothes, tainting them with liquor. He pulled his lighter out of the pocket of his sweatpants, lit it, and let it drop. Someone had tried to stop him, maybe it was Dick, but it was too late. The whole thing was engulfed in flames. There was a commotion, one that Jason felt separate from entirely. It was as if his body was as empty as a puppet and another person was controlling him. He watched the flames grow and eventually heard the crackle of the flames and Bruce calling for Alfred to bring a fire extinguisher. Dick had his hands on Jason’s shoulders, shaking him and calling his name.

“Jason, what were you thinking!?” Dick’s voice rose as if someone were turning up the volume on Jason’s ears. Jason pushed Dick off of him with bared teeth.

“Don’t touch me, Grayson!” Jason snapped as Alfred trotted out with the fire extinguisher.

“I told you he was unstable, father.” He heard Damian say to Bruce.

“Quiet, Damian.” Bruce said, taking the fire extinguisher and using it on the remnants of the box. There wasn’t much left, a few scraps of smoldering fabric and ash. Jason stumbled back from the scorched grass and then turned back to the manor. He started to move back inside but Bruce seized his shoulder with a firm grip. “What’s wrong, Jason?” Bruce asked, firm eyes staring straight into Jason’s. Jason couldn’t bear to look; the light was too strong for him.

“Get off of me!” Jason snapped, pulling away from Bruce. Jason turned away and ran back into the house. He went down the stairs into the liquor cellar and grabbed himself another bottle of whiskey, the cheap kind. He stalked back up the stairs and headed to his room, slamming the door behind him. He sat on his bed, opened the bottle, and drank. Sometimes Jason would get like this. He would lose it all and just want to burn, burn like the memories of Jason Todd. Little things would set him off, little things like memories of the rise and decline of his life. He had lived on the street most of his childhood, fighting for scraps just so he wouldn’t go hungry during the night, and then he had come to Wayne Manor where things had gotten exponentially better. He still hadn’t been good enough to deserve it. He was a sewer rat, the scum of Gotham city. He drank again, killing off half the bottle.

He blinked and looked up at his laptop, still glowing from the last page he’d been on. He went over, still drinking from his whiskey bottle. Melody Baker was the sun, the moon, and the stars, everything that was beautiful, glowing and alive. Jason locked his door and collapsed onto his bed, setting his 3/4th empty bottle onto the nightstand. Tonight, Red Hood will go to her. If he can’t be Jason Todd with her, he cannot force a girl so bright to love a corpse, then he will go to her as Red Hood. Red Hood was alive. Red Hood bathed in blood and death, but he was alive. Jason Todd was dead.

Jason woke up face down on his mattress, his breath tasting like cheap whiskey and his head was hammering like there were gnomes with jack-hammers living inside his skull. Jason felt ill, but he wasn’t prepared to get sick, not now. He had been drunker before. Drinking usually helped make everything less painful. It was painful, sometimes, to be so aware of the things that others ignore. Drinking helped him escape reality for a few moments of blissfulness, until he woke up and the pain of living returned to him. It was a vicious cycle. He stood up slowly and went to brush his teeth. He didn’t feel much better, but he at least felt clean. He slipped into his Red Hood attire and left through the window into the night sky. He took his bike to its usual hiding spot. He had a destination in mind, however.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melody decides to put on a show for the man lurking outside her window, and one thing leads to another . . .

Melody was happy to be home after a long day of work. Toby was also happy to have her back inside their humble apartment. Her legs and arms were sore from some heavy lifting she had done after closing, with Charlie’s assistance. They had just gotten in a shipment of a new addition to a popular Young Adult Fantasy series that was due to be released next week. She had Jean working on how the novels should be displayed. The store had been advertising for the novels for months. The release was going to be huge. Melody had even organized a midnight release party that involved a large sheet cake with the cover of the book printed onto it. Melody liked to do things like this to encourage kids to read. She remembered when she stayed up all night waiting for the next Harry Potter novel to come out. She had met some wonderful people at that meeting, people she could talk for hours with about the characters and the plot and their predictions, and she wanted to create that kind of community with the young adults that often frequented her bookstore.

She finished her paltry excuse for dinner and put her dishes in the sink. She clicked on her iPod dock and the latest Imagine Dragons CD began to play. She sang along and danced to the music while she cleaned up the pots, pans and dishes she had tainted with her pathetic attempt at cooking. Melody was good at a lot of things, but cooking was not one of them. She couldn’t bake all that well either. She had tried to make cookies for her employees at the bookstore once and none of them will ever let her live it down. She had accidently melted the chocolate chips in the microwave because she had forgotten to melt the butter and it was already in the batter. Then she had made the cookies far too big so they looked more like small Frisbees than actual cookies. On top of all that she had burnt them. Charlie had been the only one to eat one, and that had been on a dare. After that fiasco she had been told that she was not allowed to bake anything for the bookshop anymore. That’s why she was getting the sheet cake done by a bakery.

Her ex had never liked it when she baked either, but he had never liked it when she really did anything. He had always been criticizing her or telling her what to do. A lot of girls would’ve appreciated how his mind was always thinking ahead, to their future life together, but Melody had always been afraid that she couldn’t fit in with the picture he had painted. He had wanted children, something Melody had been apprehensive about, and he had wanted her to sell the bookstore and move in with him in his family’s mansion, another thing she would’ve rather died than do. When he introduced her to his parents and their friends, he had told her not to speak directly to any of the men and not be so “smart”. Melody rolled her eyes as she thought of this, drying her hands off on a dish towel. Toby was looking up at her as if he knew that dating that guy was a huge mistake. His face had “I told you so” written all over it.

“I should’ve let you bite him, huh, boy?” Melody said, crouching down to give him a rub along his neck. Toby woofed in agreement with her question. Melody hugged Toby’s head to her chest and sighed when he rested his body against hers. “You know mommy’s sad, don’t you, but mommy’s always sad, isn’t she?” She placed a kiss on the top of Toby’s head and released him. He scampered off to his bed in the corner of the living room. She used to let him sleep on her bed when he was a puppy but he eventually got too big. Her ex had insisted he had to sleep in a dog bed. Ever since then, Toby refused to sleep on her bed, though she felt like she might have needed the company tonight. “Goodnight, baby.” Melody said, turning off the lights and her iPod, and heading into her bedroom.

As soon as she shut the door behind her she felt like she was being watched. Melody wasn’t sure what made her feel like that but out of the corner of her eye, at the window on the fire escape; she caught a glimpse of bright red. She felt her lips curve into a smile against her better judgment. Was Red Hood watching her? And better yet, if he was watching her, why? Was he watching her to catch a glimpse of her naked or was he looking after her like a dark guardian angel? Or maybe it was both. Either way, Melody found herself in a very unique and rare opportunity. Melody had never really needed to know a lot of tricks to get a guy hot and bothered, but after reading as many romance novels as she has, she knew just the right ways to tempt a silent observer.

She grabbed some lotion, mango scented, from her nightstand and opened it up. She took a seat on her bed, positioned just so that the window could capture all of her. She had intended to do this anyway, but she figured she might as well turn it into a show for her guest’s viewing pleasure. She scooped a handful of lotion out of the jar and slathered it onto her legs, allowing her skirt to ride up to her hip so she could get the lotion evenly distributed on her leg. She rubbed and ran her fingers up and down the smooth skin. Once she had sufficiently moisturized her one leg, she moved onto the next. She felt a little cruel for making such a simple task so obscene but she couldn’t help but think about Red Hood running his hands up and down her legs as she was currently. Her body grew hot with anticipation. She returned the lotion to the nightstand and unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse, rubbing the excess lotion along her neck and collarbone. She heard the thump of heavy boots on the metal grating of the fire escape and chewed her bottom lip to keep from grinning. She looked up at her window where Red Hood was no longer hiding. She walked over to the window and opened it. He climbed in without asking permission and she shut the window behind him.

“You knew I was watching you.” He accused, but he didn’t sound angry.

“My response to that accusation is based entirely off the reasoning as to why you were spying on me in the first place.” Melody replied, her throat catching with both fear and lust. He was intimidating, standing before her so tall and dark. She couldn’t see his face, she didn’t know what he was thinking, she knew nothing about him but she wanted to know everything. He backed her against her desk, a pathetic thing really, but it felt so sturdy at her lower back.

“Guess.” His voice was a primal growl, low and filled with wicked promises. He waited and Melody looked up at him with dark eyes and gave him all the permission in the world. In her eyes, she told him to do his worst.

“Yes.” She said and Red Hood didn’t need any more invitation. He pushed against her, his hands under her skirt before she could even register what was happening. She could feel his gloved hands pulling down her underwear, soaked through with excitement. Melody wasn’t sure what to do as his fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants. He pushed her down onto the desk with one hand and freed himself from the confines of his pants with the other.

It was in the blink of an eye that Melody felt him enter her. She cried out at the feeling, the excruciating pleasure, and her hands were gripping tightly to the edge of the desk from the overwhelming feel of it. She’d never done it like this before, never so rough and impersonal. It was thrilling, a new adventure. Red Hood thoroughly fucked her, there was no other word to describe the animalistic actions being done to her. It was the rutting of a beast taking his mate. The powerful thrusting of Red Hood’s body made her Melody feel as though there was an electric current running through her, setting her on fire. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust and she wanted to wrap her hands around his neck but his one gloved hand held her down on the desk. Melody felt her body tighten, her eyes clenched tightly shut, as she was sure Red Hood’s were. She felt her toes begin to curl, something she had only managed to accomplish by herself. When she came, she came hard and fast, bright lights playing behind her closed eyes, and Red Hood joined her seconds later. It was over as soon as it had begun, so quick but so satisfying time didn’t even matter. Red Hood was panting, she could hear it through his helmet, and Melody wasn’t sure if she was actually breathing or she had died and gone to heaven. He was off of her, his hand releasing her from confinement, and his manhood hidden away once more inside his grey cargo pants.

Melody did her best to gracefully kick off the remnants of her white cotton panties and climbed off of her desk. She wasn’t sure she could look at the piece of furniture so innocently anymore. She stood unsteadily on her feet but after a few moments she finally remembered how to walk. Red Hood had a black gloved hand on his helmet as if he were deeply considering what had just occurred. Melody was looking up at him but he would not look at her. It was killing her, not being able to see what he was thinking about.

Red Hood shook his head slowly. “That wasn’t . . . right.” He said as if he couldn’t figure out how to use his words. Melody frowned deep enough that it showed the little crease on her forehead.

“What do you mean?” She asked, hoping he would finally look at her. He didn’t.

“You deserve better than . . . well, whatever that was.” Red Hood said, shaking his head somberly. It clicked with Melody then. It was not her that Red Hood was ashamed of; it was how it had occurred between them. Melody gave him a small chuckle and dared to place a hand on what would be the cheek of his helmet. She turned his face towards her and gave him a smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed by what we’ve done, Hood, because I can assure you it was marvelous on my end.” Melody grinned dreamily.

“We didn’t . . . use protection.”

“That’s okay, too, Hood, I promise. I’m on the pill, I have been for years.” She assured him, her soft and comforting. “Unless you have any infections I have to concern myself with.” She raised an eyebrow at him and Red Hood let out a nervous chuckle.

“No, I’m clean. I have been for years.” He teased and Melody laughed.

“Now that’s the Red Hood I barely know. As for me, you know, I’m completely riddled with disease.” She patted his helmet’s cheek and something told her that he was smirking. “I’m going to get cleaned up.” She disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes before returning. Red Hood had been leaning against her desk, looking down at his boots. “You stayed.” She pointed out, feeling a little stupid.

“Did you want me to leave?” He offered.

“No.” Melody shook her head. Of that, she was certain. “This is the only way you’ve ever been with someone, am I correct?” She asked. Red Hood stared at her for a moment.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Melody’s eyes went to the desk. “Like that.” She said, looking back up at him.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He agreed after some thought.

“Do you want to try again?” She proposed, twining her fingers together behind her back. Red Hood tilted his head slightly.

“You want to do it again?”

Melody smiled, feeling utterly ridiculous for thinking about sex so soon after having it. “Yes, but my way.”

“And what constitutes as ‘your way’?” Red Hood asked.

“For starters, you have to take this off.” She touched her hands to his helmet, looking up at him with her wide blue eyes. “Unless, you don’t have a mask underneath, then we have a problem.”

Red Hood placed his hands over hers, not stopping her but guiding her to removing his helmet. It came off slowly and once it was entirely off, she clutched the hard plastic against her chest, gazing up at his face. He was wearing another mask, a black one that still hid his eyes from view, not that she expected to see them. He had a handsome face and that made her smile subconsciously for some reason. He had bluish black hair and a chiseled face that made him look similar to a Greek god, although his nose was slightly kinked from being broken too many times. His skin was a shade or two darker than hers, but he would still be considered fair. He had a small scar on his upper lip and a longer older scar along his jaw to the edge of his chin. She ran her fingertips over his jaw, stern and clenched tight as she touched him, then his lips and his nose, tracing the outline of his mask over his eyes. He had a remarkably nice nose, despite its crookedness, something Melody never would’ve thought about were she able to see all of his face. He had an earring in his right ear, a small thin black hoop that was so close to his earlobe that it looked like it melded with his skin. She smiled when she touched it. “Hood, you didn’t tell me you had an earring.”

“We haven’t done much speaking since I’ve been here.” His voice was low and quiet, but Melody thought it was nice to see his lips moving as he spoke.

“Well, if it counts for anything, I think it’s very sexy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of this chapter! It's one of my favorites!


	6. Chapter 6

Red Hood felt as nervous as a virgin while Melody surveyed him. It was strange to have her see his face, most of it, anyway. He’d never felt so naked in his life. Her eyes were scanning him and her fingers grazing his face as gentle as the wind. He spent so long in her eyes that he almost didn’t notice her about to toss his helmet to the side. He caught her hands quickly, grabbing his helmet from her before she could drop it. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted, clutching the helmet to his chest. She looked more confused than angry, but there was a hint of annoyance in her eyes that made him feel like apologizing. He’d had that feeling a lot today.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. He wondered if he knew just how much that turned him on, especially the hint of cleavage he saw from her half unbuttoned blouse.

“Sorry, it’s just, the helmet kind of . . . explodes.” He felt stupid for saying it so he turned and set the helmet down on the desk.

“Alright,” she nodded and moved back to him, her hands sliding behind his neck so she could pull him down her. She kissed along his jaw, avoiding his mouth which made Red Hood dreadfully frustrated. Her kisses were gentle, delicate things that seemed too innocently intended to do the things they were doing to his body. Red Hood wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, having never been in this situation before. He wrapped his arms around her body, holding her close so that he could feel the curves of her body fit snuggly against his own. She nipped at his earlobe with her teeth, the ear that he had pierced shortly after his resurrection, confirming her statement that he did find his earring “sexy”. He’d gotten it just to piss Bruce off. He groaned at the sensation. Her hands slid from his neck down to grip the collar of his jacket. She placed kisses along his throat and Adam’s apple. She was good with her mouth, Red Hood noted, wondering what else she planned to do with those supple lips of hers. She started to push his coat off of his shoulders and Red Hood was forced to step back once more, this time with another groan. She raised an eyebrow at him and he found that frustrated expression on her face slightly adorable.

“It’s just, there are some things in this coat that you don’t want to accidently drop,” he warned her, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the chair, making sure it wasn’t going to slip off onto the floor. That would be bad.

Melody’s eyes were wide when he turned back to her. “How about you remove anything that might maim me before we get too carried away?” she suggested, her voice a mix of caution and annoyance. Red Hood blushed, uncharacteristic for him, but he was a little embarrassed by how armed he was. He shrugged off his black shoulder holster that held his grappling gun and another handgun. He placed it on the desk and then removed his utility belt, placing it next to his helmet and shoulder holster. He emptied out his cargo pants’ pockets of batarangs and smoke pellets, and then started to remove his boots. “The boots, too? Really?”

“Knives in the tips,” he explained, placing them next to her desk chair on the floor. He removed his socks as well, just to save himself the time. He finally turned back to her and she was regarding him with quizzical eyes.

“You’re a walking arsenal.” It wasn’t a question, it was a factual statement.

“Yeah, kind of,” Red Hood admitted, running a hand through his hair. Melody was on him again, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it with a satisfied toss. She ran her fingers over the dips and curves of his stomach, up his chest and around his neck. She pulled him down to her once more, his forehead touching hers and their noses brushing. “You know, that shirt doesn’t offer much protection,” she pointed out.

“I get that a lot.”

“You are very handsome,” she said, her voice the barest of whispers. Red Hood wasn’t sure how to accept her words. He’d never been the handsomest out of his brothers. His torso was scarred as was most of his body, but he didn’t think she would lie to him. “For the record, I like kissing and foreplay, but not an excessive amount of foreplay. Just enough of it to make for a nice build up.” Red Hood was able to catch the hint she was giving him. His hands snaked around her waist, he gripped her ass tight in his hands, and he finally closed the distance between their mouths. Red Hood had never been particularly fond of kissing, but kissing Melody was an experience entirely its own. She traced her tongue along the seal of his lips and he parted them for her, but he was the first to taste her mouth. He wasn’t about to surrender control to her immediately. Her mouth tasted sweet, like lemonade and sunshine and all the beautiful innocent things in the world. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, soft pearly things that were not so easy to undo, but Red Hood reminded himself to be patient. Melody tangled her fingers in his messy black hair while he worked the buttons of her shirt. He finally got all the buttons undone, he pulled her blouse out from her skirt, and pushed her shirt off her shoulders and it fell to the ground. Melody was left before him in a white bra and her pink skirt but she’d never felt more comfortable under someone’s gaze before, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.

He started kissing down her neck, reveling in the fact that her skin was as smooth as he had initially thought it was. His hands encircled her slim waist. She was not skinny like most women he had been with, but she was fit, thin in the sense that her body was built of lean muscle. Like Talia’s, but fuller, softer. It was evident that she worked out from her strong arms and her legs, thick with muscle from running. She was strong, unfeminine, and yet so utterly feminine in all the ways Red Hood could appreciate. His right hand went to her back to unhook her bra while he trailed his free hand over her hipbones. He undid her bra easily, far easier than the buttons of her shirt, and Melody shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. Red Hood hesitated only a moment to take in the sight of her before he dipped his head down to take her right nipple in his mouth. Melody moaned and clung to him as he worked her nipple with his tongue and teeth. Red Hood loved the sounds she made, how she pushed herself into him, desperate for more of his touch.

Red Hood pushed her skirt down her hips and it pooled around her feet. Melody stepped out of it, completely bare before him, her panties abandoned during their first romp. Red Hood lifted his mouth from her breast and cupped her center, slipping a finger in-between her folds and he began to stroke her. He kissed her roughly while he stroked her, swallowing her sounds down his throat and holding them inside of his body, fueling his desire for her. He slipped a finger inside her, and then another, reveling in how wet she was and how well her body fit with his. It wasn’t long before he felt her body lean against his for support and her walls tighten around his fingers. Her nails dug into his back when she came, his name was whispered into his ear, the only name she knew. She was panting against his mouth, clinging to him to remain upright, and Red Hood couldn’t help but find her wild eyes undeniably sexy.

“Hood,” she whispered again, her hands moving from around his neck, down his chest, to the small dark trail of hairs that disappeared into his pants. He removed his fingers from inside her and brought them up to her lips.

“Take care of this for me?” he asked. She didn’t have to be asked twice. She took his fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean while her fingers undid the button and zipper of his cargo pants. She was very, very good with her mouth. He reluctantly removed his fingers from her tantalizing mouth and helped her remove his pants and underwear. He steered her back to the bed, kicking his pants off his feet as he went, and kissed her as they fell back on the blue floral patterned bed spread together. He liked the way she felt underneath him, her body soft and warm and so completely feminine. She smelt sweet, like mangos, probably the lotion she had been using to tease him with. He put himself between her legs, already hard for her even though he just had her only a few moments ago. He paused slightly and ran his fingers over the inside of her thighs where she had unmistakable bruises shaped like a man’s hands.

“He did this?” Red Hood wasn’t sure why it came out as a question, because he already knew the answer. Melody nodded but said nothing else. Red Hood, once again, regretted not having killed the man when he had the chance. His mind went back to beautiful woman in front of him and he forgot about what had made him so angry before. He was just about to enter her when she stopped him, pushing him back slightly so he could look at her.

“Condom.” She insisted, although the look on her face was rather impatient. “Drawer.” Red Hood nodded and turned his attention to the indicated drawer. He pulled one out from the box and tore the wrapper open with his teeth. Melody slid the condom onto him slowly while he tossed the wrapper to the side. She was teasing him, her fingers stroking him as she rolled the condom on like an expert. Red Hood had to bite his bottom lip to keep from groaning. When the condom was secure, he pushed her back down onto the bed and positioned himself before her entrance. She looked even more beautiful like this, naked with her lust darkened eyes on him. He entered her slowly this time, taking the time to feel every inch of her and watch every reaction play out on her face. She felt so good to him, so perfect. He tried to keep it slow but he found himself encouraged harder and faster by her moans and pleas. Her nails dug into his back, urging him faster and faster. She raked her fingernails from his lower back up to his shoulder blades, making Red Hood groan from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He always liked a liked a little pain with his pleasure. She cried out his name, the nickname she had given him, when she came and it didn’t take long for Red Hood to join her.

He collapsed to the side of her, panting hard, just as she was, except she looked a hell of a lot better doing it. Red Hood felt so completely sated he didn’t want to move. He had never felt so . . . _alive_ , so exposed and so completely satisfied. They laid there on her bed, breathing heavily, neither of them willing to break the fragile, beautiful silence that was between them. Finally, Melody spoke up. “That was . . . the best sex I’ve had in . . . God, I’ve never had sex this good. Is that pathetic?” she asked, looking over at Red Hood.

“Kind of,” he admitted, turning to meet her gaze. “But I’m not much better. I’ve never . . . well, I’ve never slept with the same girl more than once.”

Melody chuckled. “That _is_ a little pathetic.”

“Bathroom?”

“Over there,” Red Hood followed her directions and shut the bathroom door behind him. He disposed of the condom, cleaned himself up, and then returned to Melody’s bedroom to find her half under her covers. She was lying on her back, breasts exposed and a hand tangled in her white blonde waves. She looked radiant and glowing.

“You know, those bed sheets are kind of emasculating,” Red Hood indicated, leaning against the doorframe between the bathroom and her bedroom. He was finally taking note of her blue floral printed comforter. There were orange, purple, green, and light blue flowers decorating the dark blue base.

“It’s a Vera Bradley pattern. I have an addiction to their patterns. My ex always hated them.” She smirked at that. Red Hood rolled his eyes and slid in bed beside her.

“Please tell me _you_ dumped _him_?” Red Hood asked, mirroring her smirk.

“Nope. That’s what I was out the night before; I was drinking away my pain,” Melody let out a bitter laugh. “I have a laundry list of ex-boyfriends that make me want to drink.”

“So I’m your rebound?” Red Hood asked.

Melody rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t get all sensitive on me, Hood.”

“Do I look like a sensitive guy to you?” He quirked an eyebrow at her and she looked down where the sheets were barely covering his hips.

“Definitely not.”

Red Hood crossed his arms over his chest. “Good.”

She caught him with her blue eyes. “I’m sorry about your back.” Red Hood frowned slightly. “I kind of scratched it up a bit. I should really trim my nails.”

Red Hood snorted a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, I like a little scratching. I can handle my pain.”

“It most certainly looks like you can.” Her fingers ghosted over his abdomen where a superficial scar lacerated his flesh. Red Hood closed his eyes briefly at the gentle touch, of delicate soft skin brushing over the deformity on his skin. She moved closer to him and he uncrossed his arms, giving her more skin to access and examine. She moved her fingers lightly over the deepest scar on the right side of his ribs and he winced slightly, a reaction gone unnoticed by Melody. “Some of these are terrifying.”

Red Hood grunted in agreement. “They’re pretty bad.” He looked at her cream colored flesh, unmarred by any blade or weapon, but her eyes told him that she had seen her fair share of misery.

“I don’t mean to say that they’re disgusting or anything like that, just that they make me feel your pain. The idea that someone has hurt you, well, it hurts me,” she clarified. Red Hood didn’t have time to ask her why she felt that way because she straddled his waist and her lips were already on his abdomen. She kissed and licked her way up his chest, his throat, all the way up to the scar on his jaw. She locked her eyes on his and grabbed a handful of his hair, giving him one last slow kiss on the lips. “As fun as this has been, and it _has_ been a truly blissful evening, I have work tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. You can stay if you so desire it, but I have to forewarn you, I am a clingy sleeper.” She slid off of him and went to turn off the light switch. Red Hood watched her crawl back under the covers, snuggling down on her pillow, but she was still looking at him. For some reason that Red Hood could not explain, he felt compelled to stay. A strange tenderness came over him as he settled himself in her bed. Her eyes were now shut and her breathing was slow and even. He put a tentative arm around her, having never shared a bed with someone before, he was unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. She responded to his cautious touch by draping and arm around his waist and snuggling herself closer, resting her head in the crook of his arm. He laid there for a moment, feeling surprisingly comfortable, and allowed his eyes to shut. “Just so you know,” Melody muttered, her voice clouded with sleep. “I keep my window unlocked when I’m home.”


	7. Chapter 7

Melody woke up naked and fairly confused. She would’ve sworn that last night had been a dream, but she had never in her life slept naked unless it was after sex. Melody ran a hand through her messy tangled hair and couldn’t stop the grin that came to her face. She had sex with a masked stranger last night. She had _amazing_ sex with a masked stranger last night. She had the best sex ever with a _masked stranger_ last night. She couldn’t stop grinning until she realized that she was alone. She didn’t think he would stay the whole night, that would just be foolish, but she felt herself missing him. It wasn’t in a romantic way, not in the slightest, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he looked first thing in the morning. She rolled over and pulled the pillow he had slept on close to her chest. It smelled vaguely of him, like his spicy cologne and shampoo. Her grin returned and followed her as she skipped to her shower. She made it a quick one, no need to wallow pointlessly under the hot water, dried her hair, did her make up, and got dressed for church.

It usually surprised people, but Melody was a very spiritual person. She never failed to miss church every Sunday, if she could help it. She was also one of those people who did not approve of showing up to church in jeans and sneakers, but she was also one of those girls who mostly wore dresses and skirts to begin with anyway. She slipped on her simple white chiffon floral dress and a cream colored blazer, padding out to the kitchen to make toast and take her medication. She poured Toby’s food and watched him eat while she swallowed down her ridiculous amount of pills with a glass of orange juice and plain toast. After she finished her paltry breakfast, she grabbed Toby’s leash, her everyday purse, and slipped on her sunglasses before heading out the door, dog in tow. Toby liked to accompany her to church, especially when the weather got warmer. The bookstore didn’t open until 12pm on Sunday’s and it closed at 7pm, so Melody had plenty of time for her extracurricular activities.

Melody walked a couple blocks before arriving at the small stone cathedral. There was a lot of history behind the creation of this particular structure, St. Bernadette’s. It was built over 100 years ago and it showed in the architecture. It was styled like an old time-y cathedral, complete with flying buttresses and stained glass windows. There were a few other churches in Gotham, like Divinity Church and the abandoned Gotham Cathedral, but Melody had fallen in love with this cozy little church. Melody was not a fan of the “new age” churches that relied on artificial lighting and microphone systems. She much preferred her religious experiences to be closer to their roots, which meant uncomfortable pews, stone floors, stained glass windows, and candles. Despite the ancient atmosphere that St. Bernadette’s portrayed, it was not quite as frozen in time as it appeared. The church could be considered “new age” with its acceptance towards gay marriage and other controversial issues. It’s why Melody didn’t feel so horrible staring up at the building knowing that last night she had just had premarital sex with a masked stranger. She knelt down to tie Toby’s leash around the bike rack.

“Melody!” A cheerful elderly voice called. Melody rose to her feet and smiled at the woman approaching her. The woman was Mrs. O’Brien. She was a small, plump old Irish woman with short white hair and a perpetual smile. She was wearing her usual pastel colored skirt suit, today’s was pink, with a matching and equally ridiculous flowered hat. She didn’t hesitate to seize Melody’s face and kiss her cheek, smearing light pink lipstick on her face. Mrs. O’Brien was the type of woman who felt like she needed to mother the whole world, but Melody wasn’t about to protest the affection. Mrs. O’Brien didn’t have any children and she had lost her husband 4 years ago, before Melody knew her. She never missed a day of church and always wore her wedding band every day. “So good to see you, dear.” Mrs. O’Brien said as if she hadn’t seen Melody in years.

“You saw me last Sunday, Mrs. O’Brien.” Melody clarified, subtly wiping lipstick off her cheek.

“One week is too long to go without seeing your pretty face, my dear.” Mrs. O’Brien tsked, causing Melody to blush under the compliment.

“I concur whole-heartedly, Mrs. O’Brien,” interrupted a male voice. Descending the stone steps of St. Bernadette’s was their resident priest. Father Terence Preston was probably the youngest priest to be the head of his own parish, but there weren’t many priests available for the archdiocese to get picky. Father Preston was an inch or so taller than Melody and had neatly styled brown hair. He had intelligent and compassionate green eyes and he always seemed to know what was going on all the time. He was incredibly handsome, especially in his black shirt and slacks with his little white collar peeking through. He had his hands behind his back as he descended the steps of the church, greeting parishioners as he approached.

Mrs. O’Brien pursed her lips. “Melody is far too pretty a girl to not have children by now. You need to pass on those wonderful genetics. When is that silly boyfriend of yours going to propose?”

Melody tried not to wince at the question. “He’s probably never going to propose, seeing as how he dumped me on Friday.” Melody said, her tone laced with bitterness. She wasn’t so bitter because she had loved him and he hurt her, she was more upset about him leaving, about him deserting her and affirming to her that she was, in fact, unlovable.

“ _No_ , he didn’t.” Mrs. O’Brien insisted. “He didn’t look like an idiot to me.” The comment made Melody smile.

“I have to agree with you on that one, Mrs. O’Brien, but I guess we were both fooled by a pair of pretty blue eyes.” Melody said, blinking away the searing image of those eyes and replacing them with a sterile black mask. “Go save me a seat, Mrs. O’Brien?”

“I’ll be up front.” She replied and headed up the stairs. Melody scratched behind Toby’s ears and Father Preston placed a hand on her shoulder.

“If you need to talk with anyone about your break up, you know I never lock the church doors.” Father Preston insisted, his intuitive eyes staring into Melody’s. He had the kind of eyes that one would imagine an angel would have, bright and filled with divine love.

“If I can’t survive a trivial break up, what hope is there for the rest of the women in the world?” Melody chuckled uncomfortably under his gaze.

“It wasn’t trivial to you, Melody.” Father Preston said, dropping his hand off her shoulder. “You don’t have to be the strongest person in the world all the time.”

“If I don’t, who else will?”

Father Preston gave her a small smile. “So stubborn.” He shook his head. “Come on, you’ll be late for mass.” He said and he turned, heading up the steps.

Church ended on an uneventful note, with Mrs. O’Brien chattering on about some friend of a friend’s son that she could set up with Melody because her “biological clock” was running out of time. Melody usually wasn’t one for putting up with that kind of talk, but Mrs. O’Brien was the closest thing Melody had to a nagging mother. She found Mrs. O’Brien’s pestering a little endearing, but it was only because she assumed it was what a mother would do. Melody released Toby in the parking lot with food, water, and a few toys. She grabbed her gym bag from her apartment just in time to meet Tina in her car, waiting to head to the girl’s gym. The girls worked out every Sunday together after Melody returned home from church. It was their time to bond as best friends. Sunday morning workouts were sacred between the two of them. Tina stayed active mostly to keep her figure, whereas Melody was more interested in keeping healthy and strong.  The drive to the gym would’ve been short if it weren’t for the city traffic, but eventually they were parked and changing in the locker room.

“So how was your date with what’s-his-name?” Melody asked, slipping on her black spandex jogging pants and a purple tank top. Tina looked up from tying her white over-priced jogging sneakers.

“It wasn’t a date and his name is Matthew.” Tina insisted although her cheeks turned slightly pink at the sound of his name. “He walked me back home and that was it.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “Tina, if you’re going to lie, I must insist that you do a better job at it.”

“Fine, I gave him my number but he hasn’t called yet.” Tina sounded disappointed.

“Don’t be overdramatic, Tina, it’s been two days. He’ll call if he has any sense in him.” Melody insisted, adjusting her sports bra through her tank in an attempt to make it more comfortable. Being chesty and enjoying running were two things that didn’t go well together. The sports bra was the only way Melody could run without her breasts feeling like she’d just come from a mammogram, but it was incredibly constricting. “Come on, let’s get the good treadmills by the window.” Melody insisted as she tied her hair back. The two girls headed out to the main room after locking away their things and headed to their usual two treadmills, side by side.

“Yeah, I know, I just wish he called right away. Who decided it would be a good idea for guys to wait 3 days before he calls a girl?” Tina complained, climbing on her treadmill and adjusting the settings. “But enough about me and my woes, what about you? How are you doing?”

Melody started her run off slow, but steep, and turned to glance at Tina. “Me? I’m absolutely fine. I didn’t really love him anyway.”

Tina paused for a moment and looked at Melody. “Ew, you actually look fine, too. What’s wrong with you? I’ve never known you to miss an opportunity to sulk and listen to Taylor Swift breakup songs.”

“What can I say? Maybe I’m maturing.”

Tina paused for a beat. “No, that’s definitely not it.”

“Hey! I’m mature.”

Tina laughed. “No, you’re pleasantly childish, but that’s not it. There’s something . . . glow-y about you today.” Tina paused in her speech and then gasped. “Oh my God, you have an after-glow! You had sex last night!” She accused. Melody cringed and looked around, hoping nobody had heard the outburst. She was getting a few funny looks from men by the weights and two older women were glaring at her. Great.

“I did _not_.” Melody hissed between her teeth. “Keep your voice down.” She added, running harder on her treadmill.

Tina snorted a sarcastic laugh. “I’m your best friend, Melody, I know how you look after you get laid, now spill some details before I murder you.”

Melody chewed her bottom lip and ran harder, finally breaking a sweat. She wasn’t sure if it was the exercise or the twenty questions with Tina. “I don’t know, he was tall, dark, and handsome. I was lonely, bitter, and incredibly willing. Apparently that was a combination for incredibly good sex, the best sex I’ve ever had, actually.” Melody admitted, trying to stop the grin from this morning from returning.

“Well, who is he!? Do I know him!?” Tina asked and she looked like she was going to hit Melody. Tina liked to hit people when she got excited. Melody had received a few bruises on her arm from Tina during movies when she would get really excited for a particular scene.

“No, you don’t know him.” Melody said. Of course, she didn’t know that for a fact because she, herself, did not know who he was either.

“What does he look like? How was the sex? Give me details, I’m dying over here.” Tina insisted and Melody rolled her eyes.

“He’s kind of a mystery, Tina, and I like it that way.” Melody said, turning up the speed on her treadmill simply for something to focus on.

“Ooo, so he’s a man of mystery.” Tina said, catching the hint that Melody was giving. “Are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know, but I hope so.” Melody admitted. She probably wouldn’t have told anyone else that, not even Red Hood, but she really hoped she would see him again.

“Are you at least going to tell me how the sex was? I haven’t seen you this happy in . . . well, never.” Tina pressed.

Melody let some of her earlier bubbliness break through. “It was _fantastic_ , Tina, and I don’t say that carelessly. Words can’t describe how remarkable and talented he was in bed. Not to mention, he was certainly not lacking where it counted, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. Usually people have to twist your arm to get a compliment from you.” Tina grinned. “I do hope you see him again. I like you better when you’ve just gotten a good lay.”

“I hate you.” Melody said, but she was grinning.

“You love me.” Tina laughed. “I mean, who else would’ve pulled you off of that sorority girl in college? You need me too much.”

Melody grimaced. “We don’t talk about that.”


	8. Chapter 8

The girls finished up their workout and then showered and changed at the gym. Tina drove them back to the bookstore and Melody opened the gate for Tina to park her car. After patting Toby on the head and making sure he was content with his chew toy, the girls walked arm and arm into the bookstore. It was only a few minutes later that Charlie arrived, followed closely behind by another of Melody’s employees, a tall, gangly young man named Evan. Evan was kind of a slacker, but it was more in a helpless sense than a lazy sense. He was a hard learner but he was good with his hands and added much needed muscle to Melody’s mostly female staff. He usually worked in the back with the new book shipments. Evan gave the girls a nod, clocked in on the cash register/computer and then headed to the back to unpack some boxes.

Charlie walked over to the girls and leaned forward on the counter separating them. “Now why is it that you have to look so damn good every day? It’s just not fair to us common people who actually put effort into our appearance.” Charlie teased Melody.

“It’s a natural gift, Charlie. I’m fairly certain that I’m descended from a goddess, it’s why I radiate perfection on a daily basis.” Melody replied and then waved her hand at him. “Go fetch me and my equally god-like companion some coffee, peasant.” Tina laughed and Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Someone’s in a good mood today.” He said as he headed over to the café to get started on her request. Tina elbowed Melody in the ribs and winked.

“Tina, you’re incorrigible.”

Tina left shortly after, her excuse being she had to clean the apartment but Melody knew she was mostly going to sit by the phone and wait for that guy to call. Melody wasn’t sure between the two of them who was more pitiful, but she knew the race was very close. She didn’t have time to add up their pathetic points because Detective Blake entered the shop, followed closely by his 14 year old son, James. The pair was one of those families that looked so much alike even a stranger could tell they were father and son. James looked like a younger version of his father in every sense. The boy had the same nose, intelligent brown eyes, and unruly brown hair as his father, only Detective Blake had more stubble and was significantly taller. James, as she recalled, had formed a bond with 3 other boys in the Summer Reading Program whose fathers were also Gotham PD. All four of those boys had developed an interest in mystery and horror novels, ranging from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to Stephen King. James grinned his father’s charming smile up at her as they approached the counter. Detective Blake was carrying a manila folder and James had a cellophane wrapped plate in his hands.

“Hello James, Detective Blake. It’s good to see you two.” Melody greeted and James set the plate on the counter. He had that lanky body of a boy who was just forming into himself, but there was something about him that made Melody believe he would grow up to be boyishly handsome, like Charlie.

“Dad said you had a rough night last Friday so mom and I made you cookies.” James said and suddenly Charlie appeared.

“I heard ‘cookies’.” Charlie explained, tearing into the cellophane and biting into a cookie. “Oh my God these are fantastic.” Charlie mumbled with his mouth full of cookie.

“They weren’t for you.” Melody rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Detective Blake and James. “Thank you both for bringing the cookies.”

Detective Blake ruffled his son’s already unruly brown curls. “James, go pick out a book.”

James looked up at him. “Can I get two?”

“Soft cover.” Detective Blake compromised. James grinned in triumph and hurried off to the young adult section of the store, though he was bound to find his way to the horror or mystery sections eventually. Detective Blake set the manila folder down on the counter. It was full to the max, more than any folder should be expected to hold. The file tab was labeled “Hart, Chad” in scribbled sharpie letters. “Dr. Baker, if I could have a word with you in private.” It was less of a question and more of a firm suggestion. Normally, Melody would’ve been much nosier but Detective Blake’s tone was completely no-nonsense oriented. She nodded and gave a pointed look at Charlie.

“Don’t eat all my cookies.” She warned Charlie and then turned and led Detective Blake to her office.

“No promises!” Charlie called back as Melody disappeared. Melody’s office was a small cluttered little thing that was about the size of a large cubicle. Melody’s desk was a large antique she’d fallen in love with but it was covered in stacks of books and papers making the majestic piece of hand carved wood look mostly like an over-glorified cluttered table. She made some space on the desk and offered Detective Blake a seat, which he declined.

“So I’m assuming this has something to do with that file in your hands. It looks thick enough to kill a man.” Melody said, taking a seat in her comfy swivel office chair.

“Or a woman.” Detective Blake sighed and set the folder down on the square of empty space on her desk. Melody frowned at his serious tone.

“I’m assuming this has something to do with Chad Hart.” Melody crossed her arms over her chest. Her hand went unconsciously to the gold cross necklace where she toyed with the chain and the crucifix. It was something she found herself doing often. In moment of high stress or nervousness Melody’s fingers always wrapped around the secure gold chain.

“This is his file, the man who attacked you. I hate to phrase it this way but . . . you almost got off easy.” Melody frowned at the serious tone.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her face falling. She had that twist in her gut that made her wonder what gruesome horrors lay within the confines of that folder.

“12 other victims, Melody. There are 12 other victims that this man is being charged with raping. One of the girls was dead on the scene of the first one and the other girl was beaten so badly she’s still in a coma. The others . . . the girls are . . . messed up, Melody. This guy isn’t just a rapist, he’s a monster.” Detective Blake looked a mixture of tired and enraged, the way a weathered cop looks after he realizes he hasn’t quite seen it all yet. “We’ve got to get him off the streets but he’s got some friends in high places, whoever they may be, because he’s lawyered up to the T. He’s got the best of the best on his team. These guys . . . they’ve been known to make witnesses ‘disappear’.” Detective Blake made a face at that. _The corrupt system in Gotham strikes again_ , Melody thought.

“Are you trying to scare me out of testifying, Detective Blake?” Melody asked, her hands gripping the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles were turning white. She was angry. No, she was beyond that, she was pissed the hell off and she had a feeling Detective Blake wasn’t done talking.

“Not at all, Melody, I’m just trying to warn you so you know exactly what you’re getting into here.” Detective Blake said and he cocked his head to the folder on the desk. “Go ahead, open it.” It was a dare, to see how far Melody was willing to go. She grabbed the folder and flipped it open. She covered her mouth quickly to stifle the pained sound that was trapped in her throat. He eyes watered and she felt like she was going to vomit. Attached by a paperclip to some paperwork were what appeared to be several crime scene photos. The photo on the top of the pile was a body, Melody assumed it was female but it was so beat up and disfigured that it was hard to really tell what it looked like. The whole face was bruised and swollen and the dark hair was caked with dried blood, formed into a misshapen mass that only dehumanized the corpse even more. She was also naked from the waist down, lying slumped on one side as if someone had thrown her to the ground like trash. What could be seen of the rest of her body was bruised, bloody, and cut up. She looked as if she had been ravaged by some kind of wild animal, but Melody knew better than to believe an animal had done this.

“That’s Anne Turner, 22. The coroner said her COD was asphyxiation. Chad Hart was the lead suspect in her murder but there wasn’t enough evidence to take him to trial.” Detective Blake explained. “The other victims were similarly beaten and strangled, but Anne was the only one that died. There are more pictures.”

“I don’t want to see them.” Melody shook her head and shut the folder.

“Too much for you?” He didn’t ask it to be condescending; he asked it as if he were concerned, as if he didn’t want to push her past her limits.

“Maybe.” Melody admitted. Melody had always been so tuned into the pain and suffering of others. She noticed the invisible people, the ones who suffered and thought nobody cared, but Melody had cared. She could almost feel the bruises on her own skin, the hands wrapping around her throat, and the fear pumping through her body the same way it had with young Anne Turner. “She looks like me.” Melody pointed out.

“That’s his target group. Young, blonde-haired women with blue eyes, fair skin, usually tall.” Melody shuddered at that.

“Why are you telling me this?” Melody asked, pushing the manila folder towards Officer Blake. He picked it up off the desk and tucked it under his arm.

“Because when the time comes, I’m going to need you to help get some of these other victims to testify as well. I think you can inspire them. It’ll mean more if you go to them than if they have to deal with just another police officer.” Detective Blake explained. Melody nodded slowly and stood up from her desk chair.

“You want me to convince these girls to testify against Chad Hart?”

“Yes.” Detective Blake gave a firm nod.

Melody sighed. “Alright, Detective, I suppose I’m all yours. Just let me know when you need me and I’ll be there.”

Detective Blake seemed to brighten slightly. “We appreciate your cooperation, Dr. Baker.”

“Anything for the folks in blue.” Melody mock saluted him. She exited her office just behind Detective Blake. Charlie was chewing on another cookie, leaning against the counter at the registers. Melody didn’t have the heart to yell at him so she settled for rolling her eyes. It was immediately when Detective Blake joined Charlie’s side at the other side of the registers that James appeared carrying two sizable books in his arms. Detective Blake gave his son a half-amused smile as James set the books on the counter. “These look like some excellent books, James.” Melody grinned as she scanned out the books and James returned the smile.

“Do you know when the Battle of the Books choices will be out?” James asked.

“Not yet, buddy, but when the choices come out you’ll be one of the first to know.” Melody promised. “Are you, Gavin, and Derek going to be on the same team again?”

“You know we are!” James grinned proudly.

“Great.” Melody gestured to the spinning rack of bookmarks. “Pick one of the bookmarks out for your mom as a ‘thank you’ for the cookies. Charlie really appreciates them.” Melody chuckled as Charlie stuffed another cookie in his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders and grinned at Melody with cookie still in his mouth. James grabbed a pink bookmark with kittens on it and Detective Blake ruffled his son’s hair.

“Mom’ll love that one, great choice, James.” Detective Blake said, taking the small paper bag of books in his hand and slipping the bookmark in. “We’ll be in touch, Melody.”

“I’ll count on it, Detective Blake. Have a great day, James!” Melody waved goodbye as the exited the store. As soon as they were gone, Charlie looked at her with a mouth full of cookie.

“What was all that about?” Charlie asked as he chewed.

Melody narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you have coffee to be making?”

“Meow”

“Go stuff a cookie in it, Charlie. Although, you probably could do with a few less cookies, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Ouch, that hurts, Mel.”

Melody rolled her eyes and reached for her purse on the counter. “Charlie, where are my cigarettes?” She asked, looking up from her purse accusingly. Charlie grinned innocently.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I hate you.” Melody glared.

“I know.”

“Get back to work, slacker!” Melody ordered, but Charlie had managed to get a small smile on her face.

“Love you, Mel!” Charlie replied, grabbing the plate of cookies and heading back to the café.


	9. Chapter 9

Jason Todd had slept peacefully through the night for the first time since he had risen from the dead. He hadn’t had a nightmare the entire night; it had been nothing but beautiful uninterrupted sleep. Jason wasn’t sure if he had Melody to thank for that, but he was sure she had played some part in Jason’s ease. He had never woken up feeling so . . . relaxed, so calm, before. Jason slid out of bed and slipped on a pair of black sweatpants before heading downstairs in search of something to eat. He walked down the stairs barefoot, taking in the familiar feeling of Wayne Manor as he went. He headed to the kitchen to grab some cereal but paused outside the closed door at the sound of voices. Bruce and Dick were speaking, not as quietly as they both probably assumed, because Jason could easily make out their conversation.

“. . . We’re not going to do that, Bruce. Did you even visit him in there?”

“No, Dick, I didn’t think it would be helpful for him to see me. Not to mention it would’ve blown our cover.”

“Yeah, well I did see him and he was empty in there, Bruce. He was worse off in there than he is here. At least he’s half-living here at home than being the frightened, brain-dead thing he was inside—”

Jason entered the room and the chatter ceased in such an obvious way that Jason couldn’t stop himself from smirking. He could feel the surprised faces staring up at him from the counter. Damian was in the room as well, looking equally as shocked as Bruce and Dick. None of them had expected Jason to leave his room, Jason assumed. Alfred entered the kitchen while Jason was grabbing a carton of pulp free orange juice from the fridge and the old butler nearly dropped the tray he was carrying. “Master Todd!” Alfred exclaimed in that soft surprised tone only the butler could master.

“Yes?” Jason asked, turning to face the butler. Jason unscrewed his orange juice and took a swig from the carton while Alfred opened and closed his mouth as if he were unable to form words.

It was Damian who finally spoke up. “What happened to your _back_?” Jason frowned and turned to look at his reflection in the microwave. He saw several long red scratches down his back, one that had a few scabs on it from where blood had been drawn. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

“I scraped it against a wall while on patrol last night.” Jason shrugged, turning back to look at Bruce, Damian, and Dick.

Bruce raised a skeptic eyebrow at him. “Through your jacket and your shirt?”

Jason thought on his toes and took another swig of orange juice to buy himself some time to come up with a good lie. “Well, when I was using my grappling hook, the line wasn’t taught before I swung so I kind of slid down against the wall and my shirt and jacket rode up.” Jason lied and took another drink of orange juice before setting the carton on the counter next to the sink.

Bruce’s eyes belayed that he wasn’t truly convinced but he didn’t seem interested in pursuing the matter. “I keep telling you to switch back to a Kevlar suit.” Bruce said, his eyes returning to the newspaper he was reading.

“Tt. Losing your touch, Todd?” Damian sneered, chewing on a piece of bacon. Jason narrowed his eyes at the youngest of his brothers.

“I’ve never been an acrobat, brat, but I can still crush you like a grape.” Jason threatened.

“Bring it on, Todd,” the 13-year old Robin replied.

Dick rolled his eyes at the two of them. “Knock it off you two. It’s too early to start fighting.”

Jason grunted in reply and walked over to one of the cabinets. Alfred made a noise of disapproval. “Master Todd, what are you rummaging through the cabinets for? Surely, I can find it quicker than you can, sir.”

Jason felt slightly embarrassed but stepped back from the cabinet and allowed Alfred through. “I was, um, looking for my prescriptions.” A moment of silence passed before Alfred plucked them out of another cabinet.

“Of course, Master Todd. Here you are.” Alfred handed him three different orange prescription bottles. Inside the first bottle were his antidepressants, duloxetine, blue and yellow-green pills that looked too cheerful, as if to emphasize their purpose. He was supposed to take 30mg of these twice a day. He’d have to remember to take it with him before he went out on patrol or he’d forget the second dose. The next bottle consisted of large yellow pills that Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to swallow dry. They were his antipsychotics, Risperdal, that he also needed to take twice a day, 3 mg each. He popped on in his mouth and took another gulp of orange juice to help the pill down his throat. The last bottle, Jason didn’t even want to look at. They were his sedatives, Xanax, in case all else failed and he needed to be restrained again. Images flashed before his eyes of bright white rooms, arms restraining him, hurting him, and the needle piercing his skin. He blinked several times to rid himself of the image before setting the bottle of sedatives on the counter.

“I am _not_ taking those.” He stated and Alfred nodded his head, putting the last bottle back in the cabinet.

“Jase, can we talk?” Dick asked suddenly, rising to his feet. Jason shrugged his shoulders and followed his brother out of the kitchen into the empty dining room. The dining room in Wayne Manor was usually only used for dinner. The other meals were less precisely timed with the boys coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Dinner in the dining room was one of the few things in Wayne Manor that remained consistent and formal. Dick crossed his arms over his chest and gave Jason a very older-brotherly look. “So are you going to tell me what _really_ happened to your back? Or should I say _who_ happened to your back?”

Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s really not any of your business.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I know sex scratches when I see them, Jason, now who is she? Do I know her? What does she look like?”

Jason stared at his brother for a moment before letting out an annoyed groan. “You know that girl we met the other night?”

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean the really hot blonde with the ass forged by the gods?”

“Yeah.”

“And she slept with _you_? As in, Jason Todd?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. “Well, not exactly . . .”

“You mean she slept with Red Hood!? Are you crazy!? She’s a victim!” Dick scolded, punching Jason’s arm.

Jason narrowed his eyes defensively and rubbed his shoulder. “She’s hardly a victim, Dickie-bird, all I did was bag the guy, and she took him out. And for the record, you’ve slept with many inappropriate people. And you’re currently sleeping with the commissioner’s daughter.”

“Don’t bring Barbara into this, Jason.” Dick blushed, embarrassed. He sighed, looked down at his feet, and then back up at Jason. “Look, I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing and you’re being careful about your identity, but I just want to go on record saying that this is a stupid idea. So, I wanna meet this girl. Well, as Dick Grayson. She already knows Nightwing.” Dick’s signature goofy grin returned and Jason felt puzzled by his brother’s sudden change of heart.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jason asked, scratching his chin anxiously.

“Probably not, but you know what? Bruce asked me to ask you if you wanted to replace the Chief of Security over at Wayne Enterprises, he’s retiring. I think that if we just so happen to stop at a bookstore after work there wouldn’t really be anything out of the ordinary for Bruce to suspect something.” Dick grinned and Jason shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. A job at Wayne Enterprises seemed like settling. Jason had never felt comfortable just submitting to Bruce’s will.

“I don’t know, Dick . . .”

“Come on, if you’re going to be sleeping with inappropriate people at least be fun about it.” Dick punched his arm playfully. “Now go shower and shave, then you can have some breakfast.” Dick insisted. Jason gave his brother a small nod and went to obey, but Dick grabbed his arm to halt him. “Better yet, don’t shave.” He added. Jason rolled his eyes and scratched his stubble as he headed back upstairs to get cleaned up.

“I’ll consider the job, but I’m not wearing a suit!” Jason called behind him and he heard Dick’s signature amused laughter. Never a good sign.

A few hours later, Jason found himself in the passenger seat of Dick’s car, attempting to loosen his red tie that he borrowed from Dick. He had been suckered into the fitted black suit by Dick who assured him that he could take it off as soon as he got home. The problem was, they had been at work for hours. Jason was indifferent to his new “position” at Wayne Enterprises. He had been shown the security room and introduced to the staff he would be in charge of. He’d also joined Lucius Fox in the underground weaponry tech facility that he would also be responsible for. Jason had never had the knack for technology that his brothers had but if there was one thing he was good at it was secrets and violence. He’d be testing prototype weapons for Batman and he’d be in charge of making sure the secret lab stayed a secret. It wasn’t too trying of a job, but Jason still wasn’t sure about the whole suit and tie thing.

“How do you focus with this thing strangling you all day?” Jason asked, tugging at the tie once more.

“You get used to it.” Dick chuckled. “And shut up, we’re here.” Dick pulled the car right in front of the little book store. “Her store’s called ‘Sub-Reality’? Sounds like a strip club.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either.” Jason shrugged his shoulders. The men exited the vehicle and approached the entrance to the bookstore. Jason entered the shop and was immediately assailed with a variety of scents and sounds. The entire shop smelled of fresh coffee, new books, and scented candles and the store radiated an aura of calm and pleasantness. Jason wasn’t entirely sure how this aura was achieved but there was an unbreakable sense of security and warmth in the atmosphere. The shop was dimly lit, with most of the lighting coming from the wide open front windows. There were several people milling around the store and a couple sharing coffee at one of the small café tables. Jason felt himself being sucked into the store, being pulled in like a fly to a bright beautiful light. The music did not help the trance-like feeling spreading through his body. It was new age and melodic, quite like the shop’s owner. It thrummed to a new kind of sound and diverged down to Jason’s very core.

The sound of laughter broke him out of the trance and drew his attention to the cash register. A woman with pale blonde hair and paler skin was curled up on a chair behind the registers with her nose buried in a book. He couldn’t see her face but he knew she was smiling at something. Dick grinned next to him and elbowed him playfully in the side. “Found her. Does she always look that pretty or is today a special occasion?”

Jason forced himself not to grin. “She’s always that pretty.”

“Do you gentlemen needs some help?” A soft feminine voice asked. Dick and Jason frowned and turned around at the question but there was nobody to be found. Dick glanced down and saw a small blonde haired woman in a wheelchair smiling up at him. Her nametag read “Jean”. Dick immediately turned on his charm.

“Actually, yes, I’m looking for something new to read. Could you show me some recommendations?” He gave her his prize-winning smile that made Jean blush.

“I could show you a couple new releases if you’d like?” Jean suggested, already starting to turn her wheelchair around. Dick waggled his eyes at Jason before following the employee further into the store. Jason rolled his eyes at his brother then returned his attention to Melody. Her eyes were bright and watery and Jason could see a smile on her face. How could a person get so emotional about a book? She was looking at this book so intently, so full of adoration, that Jason could see just how important this book was to her. It was a battered looking old thing with bent corners and a cover that was slightly torn. The spine of the paperback novel was bent every which way there could be. This novel had seen better days, but she still held it in her hands as if it were the rope she needed to hold onto to stay alive. Jason couldn’t help but find that passion both fascinating and confusing.

“I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.” A gruff male voice said. Jason turned to find himself staring at the large male barista whose nametag read “Charlie”. He was about Jason’s height with chin length hair and a scruffy short beard.

“What are you talking about?” Jason asked, apprehensive with this stranger. Charlie smiled down at the mug he was drying.

“If you’re thinking about asking her out I wouldn’t bother. She’ll destroy you.”

Jason never really liked to be challenged; he was too stubborn for that. “You think so?”

“Oh definitely. Do you know how many guys hit on her in one day?” Charlie nodded his head, still smirking.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the café counter. “Too many, I assume. Which is why I’m not going to hit on her. I’m going to _talk_ to her.” Jason said, starting towards the registers without waiting for a reply from the café employee. He paused in front of where Melody was sitting and he caught her eyes looking up at him through her black rectangular reading glasses for a brief moment before returning to her book. She was paying attention to him, though, in that subtle way that women could, but she didn’t want him to know about it. Jason smirked and examined the cover of the book she was reading. All that could be seen was the tanned abs of a shirtless man fading out into the warm red-orange darkness. The title read “Midnight Desires” in embossed gold letters, along with the author’s name and the fact that she was a “New York Times Bestselling Author”. She glanced up again at him while she turned the page then returned her attention back to her book.

“Isn’t that kind of an inappropriate book to be reading in public?” Jason asked, leaning in closer ever so slightly.

Her eyes flashed up to his but she didn’t put down the book. “Define ‘inappropriate’.”

Jason thought for a moment. “Well, you and I both know they have sex in that book.”

She placed the book down on the counter but didn’t close it. She was staring at him, dead on. There was fire in her eyes, as if she were looking at someone she could challenge. “What’s so inappropriate about sex?”

Jason frowned. “Hmm, well, I suppose you wouldn’t want to do it in front of kids.”

Melody quirked an amused smirk at him. “And, do you think, that just by looking at the cover of this book, that any children passing by would know that there are adult themes in this book?”

“No.” Jason admitted unwillingly.

“Not to mention, just because something is not appropriate for children, does not mean it isn’t appropriate for the public. Strip clubs are not appropriate for children but they’re still in public. It’s not my job to shield children from society’s definition of inappropriate behavior.” She stood, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied smile.

Jason raised his eyebrows at her. “You just like to win, don’t you?”

Melody shook her head. “I don’t like to win; I just like to be right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, satisfied. “Now, sir, can I help you with anything else?”

“Yes,” Jason said, making a point to glance at Melody’s nametag, “Melody, I’d like to speak with your manager.”

Her smile assured him that she knew he was playing with her. “One moment, sir.” She turned her back to him, took off her glasses and ran a hand through her long blonde hair before turning to face him, hand extended. “Hi, sir, I’m Melody, the manager of this lovely establishment, how may I help you?”


End file.
